Note: This entry is the closest to my heart and the longest one as well. Please be patient while you read it and ensure that you read it from top to bottom. And if you think that you’re not patient enough, don’t even bother to start. I don’t mean to be rude. 🙂

It was a dark night,darker than her black hair,and she,the apple of his eyes,was curled up high,on his strong shoulders,with her arms entwined around his neck,and her face hidden in his chest.

The breeze was cooland it filtered throughher hair, and his.His mystic eyeslooked at her glowing face,she, who’s eyes were happyand twinkling, cuz’ it was her third birthday.

He looked at her for a whileand then gazed at the sky above,the sky, which was black,like her hair and his eyes.The chill in the february airand the chill of the dark nightreadied to unfold,a chilly dark mystery.

She, unaware of the dark,and unaware of the mysteries,played with his hair,and, her innocent eyes,looked everywhere.He motioned up with his finger,to where a star was twinkling,a silver spot in the dark sky.

She twinkled at the sightof the twinkling one,amazed and curious,and then she looked at him,his mystic eyes,and the mystic lips,that were ready to unfold a mystery, unknown and unheard.

Look at that star sweetheart,the only one who has fought apart,the darkness of the sky,and the veils of the clouds,the only one that has managed to twinkle,the only one that has dared to shine,the one that’d shine for some more time,till the time it falls apart.

She stared at the starand then she looked at him.She was too innocent to understandthe mystery within,the mystery that he’d started to unfold,the mystery that was too mystic,to mystify her.She looked at the star and then looked at him.

Just ten more days honeyand this star will fallcuz’ it’d be time thenfor it to leave its niche,its fellow stars, its so-called friends,the moon and the sun, its parents,and thousands of others, known and unknown,it’d have to leave them all.

She looked at him,and then looked at the star,she wondered as he pulled her closer,she wondered at the drop in his eye,but she was happy and still unawareof his mysteries and the star’s.She thought about the gifts she’d received,she, the unaware, again looked at the star.

But this star, my apple,will always be therewith you, hidden from everyone’s eyesit’d give you the courage to fight the dark, and help you shrug the troubles apart.It’d give you the strength to endure the pains, cuz’ honey,it’s no bed of roses ahead on your way.

She blinked as if she understoodwhat lay ahead for her,but she was still unaware,of his mystery and the star’s.She still wondered on what he’d unveiledand she twinkled at the star again.

She mumbled "Dad",and hid herself in his chest again.

He sighed and closed his eyesas he knew what lay ahead.Ten days and the star would be gone,and it’d leave behind the apple alone.She, who’d be left alone, yet not alone,cuz’ he, the star, would be around his apple,hidden yet present,non-existing yet existent.

Ten days passed and the star fell,and she, still unaware of the mystery,wondered about where her dad went.She felt like an apple who’d fallen from a tree,the only apple who used to hang from the tree.But now, she knows and she’s awarecuz’ she struggled through and knows that he’s been there,he, who was and is, her only STAR.

I see him almost daily near the bus stop where my office cab drops me. He’s an old man, very old, who’s body seems weak enough to carry the tattered clothing that hangs carelessly from his thin shoulders. A pair of black-rimmed thick spectacles sit on his nose and he always seems to be concentrating hard on things from behind them.

He walks slowly but aimlessly, carrying a tray-like thing, which hangs from his neck, onto his tummy. On the tray, there are packets of peanuts, popcorns, and other munchies. Along with these items, a few coins lie in a corner of the tray, signifying his daily earnings. One can actually count those coins, like I did once, unknowingly. They were nine bucks.

I deliberately stood at the bus stop the other day, waiting for him to come. He did, after a couple of minutes, again walking aimlessly, and concentrating hard. He looked quite tired and I wanted him to sit for a while at the bus stop. He slowed down a bit and stopped near the juice shop. I was constantly looking at him, his clothes, his spectacles, and his hands. His hands and his face looked so similar; dark and wrinkled, with the green veins trying to pop out of the skin. My brows twisted as I thought of something and then they eased as I saw him coming towards the bus stop.

He climbed up the step of the stop, slowly and concentrating hard on it, and supporting the tray that was almost bending his neck. I was watching. He then removed the tray of munchies, placed it on the floor, and sat down. He looked like a sine curve, with his hands resting on the two crests, his knees. I kept looking at him and he kept looking in the opposite direction, not concentrating anymore. He was looking at something, which wasn’t there. Or was he waiting for someone who’s wasn’t going to come? I couldn’t figure it out. I stood like that, watching him, for about an hour. He kept sitting like that, motionless and aimless, still waiting for someone who’s not going to come, or looking at something that wasn’t there. I moved a step forward towards him. May be someone’s going to come and add another couple of bucks to the six bucks that I’d counted while I was standing.

"Dada, can I have a packet of peanuts please?", I asked him as I moved in the direction where he was looking, to catch his attention. He looked up, adjusted his spectacles, squinted a bit, picked up a packet of peanuts from his tray, and gave it to me. I looked at his hands again, which were trembling a bit. I took the packet and touched his hand slightly; a touch that said, "Thank you!".

I fished out four bucks from my wallet and handed it over to him. "Two bucks only", he said in bengali, returning two bucks to me. "Keep it Dada", I said and bent down to pick up another packet of peanuts from his tray. As I moved back up, I gave him a smile. I got a faint smile in return. It seemed as if his lips were trying hard enough to draw a smile on his face; seemed as if it’s been ages that they did so. I moved a bit away and rested my back on one of the poles of the bus stop.

As I stood there, popping the peanuts in, I watched him keep the four bucks along with the other six. I watched him as he counted them till ten. He looked content and then he looked here and there for some time. He was neither concentrating nor he was looking in to the oblivion. It was just a content look and I was happy watching him.

After some time, he collected the ten bucks and tied them properly in a piece of cloth, which looked like a handkerchief. He stood up as he slipped the money in his pocket. His legs were shaking a bit; legs that were too weak to carry his body and the tattered clothing. He lifted the tray, put it around his neck, and started moving. I stood up straight, adjusted my bag, and watched him leaving.

I watched him cross the road, adjusting the tray on his tummy, adjusting his spectacles, and drifting away slowly from my sight. I watched him till the time he crossed and I lost his sight. I kept watching the invisible trails that he’d left behind.

Is he going home? Does he have a wife at home who’d cook dinner for him? Or would he buy food for himself? Does he have children? No, if he had children, then they wouldn’t have let him go out like this. Or may be he has but they don’t stay with him. Does he have someone to talk to? Someone who’d make tea for him? Would he have enough money to buy a new pair of clothes for himself? How long would he continue like this? How long? I wondered.

Divoo thinks…

it feels funny at times
and cold too
it makes me feel uneasy
and peaceful too
i dunno what i want to say
but i know what i feel
i need to curb my thoughts
but the fruit of thought i peel
i shall and i will
but how and what
i might be able to
but i feel distraught
they overwhelm me
and i give in
i might do what is not right
but what i do ain't a sin
what i ought to know
is what i know not
i know it all i say
though i need not
are my thoughts the culprit
or is it me?
do i continue to question
or let it be?